The Purge
by undercoverpoet
Summary: The Joker must meet his inevitable fate. The ultimate purge.
1. Chapter 1

_**Greetings New and Past readers. Welcome to The Purge. I hope you enjoy the first chapter and find yourself reading further. Please review at times you see fit and I appreciate any feedback you are willing to give. Enjoy your read and let me remind you... evil comes in the most unlikely forms. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story and these characters are fictional. I am simply using certain aspects of popular characters to protray a story that has not been written, spoken, or acted out before. **_

**Chapter One: Out with the Old**

It was a sunny day in Gotham City on the day everything changed. The Joker, whose preferred name was Francis (not that anyone cared to ask), woke up at exactly 4:15, scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes, emptied his bladder, put on his make-up to cover up his scars and scratches from an abusive childhood, and stumbled his way down the stairs to wash out the bad taste of a nightmare with a glass of bourbon. He stumbled into the kitchen at exactly 4:45 to find that not only was he out of his strong drink, but he was out of bread to make toast. He always had toast on Tuesdays. By 5:30 Francis was out the door walking down Main Street with his poodle, IT.

Francis stopped at the corner of Main and Second and stared at the rubble of the old Gotham City Hotel. Only a week ago had it blown up unexpectedly. There was no warning call that most people were accustomed to here in Gotham City, only the bomb. The sole piece of evidence found by the police was a sticky note with _To: Batman, From: Francis_ written in nearly illegible handwriting. The reporters were calling this no-namer a genius. The Joker laughed out loud, startling the birds on the wires.

"You know, IT," Francis giggled, "too bad Batman didn't die then. But then again, I guess I would like to kill him with the name everyone knows and fears. What do you say, boy?"

IT barked and scampered around Francis, wrapping the cord around his legs. Francis let out a hideous laugh. "Of course the no-namer is a genius! It's me!" He coughed repulsivelt and led IT down the road back to the house.

He arrived home on schedule, 5:47, where he found the newspaper haphazardly thrown on the front porch. Francis bent down and picked up the closest advertisement. Gotham Hospital was looking to hire female nurses to take care of the superheroes and regular heroes who were wounded during the 'mysterious bomb' fiasco. Francis smiled, reached for his nurse's uniform, and for the second time that day, he walked down Main, past the rubble of the hotel, and to the Gotham Hospital on the corner of Second and Freemans street. He was shocked to see a line extending far out into the street. Francis proceeded to the end of the line not as Francis Joker, but as Francesca Jokerbombs. As Francis, now Francesca, looked around at the surrounding 'applicants,' he was disappointed to see that all the other villains - even Manray and the Dirty Bubble from Sponge Bob - had the same idea: work as nurses and kill off their nemeses through either painkillers or slaughtering them inhumanely in the process of getting paid.

"So much for being a genius now," Francis mumbled and stepped next to the 'woman' dressed in a pantsuit and a veil covering half 'her' face. Francis muttered good morning and glanced up at the face. Half of it had the boyish charm of a certain ex-attorney, while the other side was seriously scarred and scraped and looked much like Francis's own face. The two-faced 'woman' nodded and continued to look straight ahead.

The line seemed to go on forever. Hours went by and the line of villains remained stagnant; the sun reached high noon before anything happened. Francis grew restless; he had not had his lunch of tuna fish and graham crackers at 11:27 or taken IT for another walk at 11:51. Suddenly, a fight broke out about six people up from Francis. A woman with a snake-like face, without a nose, and another woman draped in a black cape and helmet suddenly landed in a human knot on the concrete. The snake woman quickly regained her balance and shouted, "My name is Voldemorta. _Avada Kedavra!" _She emphasized the last two words, and a green light erupted from the end of the twig she was pointing at the black clad applicant. The green light hit the other woman square in the chest, and she lay still. Francis sighed. He had heard about Voldemort and Darth Vader before; it was no surprise that they ended up killing each other.

Another hour inched by and Francis grew even more restless. He had not folded his laundry at 12:42 or eaten his apple at 12:57. Suddenly, there was a low rumble that escalated into a roaring explosion. The noise and debris ripped through the street, shattering the windows, and seared the concrete and trees. Francis felt his skin pull away from his bone and melt down his face; his muscles tightened from the heat and begin to cook. His eyes blurred until he saw nothing but black.

On that fateful day, 315 villains were killed at the Gotham Hospital. The only two pieces of evidence left at the scene were a name tag with _Francesca Jokerbomb_ scrawled in a fake girly handwriting and a sticky note with the words:

_To: Francesca, Francis, Joker, etc._

_From: Your Favorite Person_

_I have always known your name._

_P.S. Too bad I had to kill you before it was the other way around._


	2. Chapter 2

**_For those who read the first part of The Purge, I decided to build off of it and create a new villain. Please enjoy, and criticism is appreciated. Introducing Margie Lewis._**

**_Discalimer: read the first part._**

**Chapter 2: A New Beginning**

It was dark in the basement. She tried to move around but she found she couldn't. Her hands were bound and her feet were too high above to reach the shackles chaining them to the wall. Blood was rushing to her head as she dangled, arms above her head, like she use to do as a small child. It had been over five years since the ultimate purge. Over five years since a villain had been seen in Gotham City. Over five years since she had lost her idol, her father. And here she was, five years later, trapped by her own stupidity.

Margie Lewis wasn't your typical sixteen year old girl. At age thirteen she was recruited to work in a government agency dealing with surveillance, computer programming, defense, and the development of weapons of mass destruction for the army and weapons for other superheroes. She worked with the agency for three weeks before she was expelled from the premises for exporting information to her father via her photographic memory. She was different and it didn't help that she was halfblood - her father being The Joker.

Maggie struggled against her restraints to no avail and pounded against the wall behind her in an effort to loosen the already rusting shackle bolts. The other captives were silent.

"Hey!" Margie screamed at a man with a long slash across his abdomen. "Hey! Would you get your sorry ass up and help me here?!" The man groaned, eyes closed, and didn't move. "You worthless piece of shit! Why don't you quit your cry babying and be useful for once in your pathetic life!" The man groaned again and attempted to stand. The scratch was one of three deep gouges that ran from below his left eyebrow, down his chest, and around his torso, ending at his spine. Maggots crawled through the muscles in his back and Margie could see the infection spreading through his body.

"There you go. Now get these goddamn things off me!" Margie spat at the zombified man. He inched closer until Margie practically could smell Death sticking to his skin and wounds. He released her slowly, as he lacked the strength to go any faster. As Margie fell to the floor, hands still bound, and landed in a heap. The man collapsed, completely exhausted. He struggled for air and wrapped his hands around Margie's sneaker, his eyes pleading for mercy.

"Not for you, you worthless piece of shit," she snickered; she lacked pity for the dying man and stamped on his windpipe. The man's eyes flew open and gurgled blood; Margie stomped again, ensuring that the heel of her foot hit his Adam's apple, piercing the other side of the man's throat. "That should finish you off." She spat on his face before turning away.

Wiping the blood off of her shoes, Margie sauntered out of the basement, taking the stairs four steps at a time. Her lean 5'5" frame swayed from side to side with her gait. At the top of the stairs she found herself surrounded by weapons glinting menacingly under the dimmed lights. She chuckled and grabbed a couple of knives and her confiscated wand. She began to laugh hysterically; it bounced off the titanium walls of the Batcave and into the vents which traveled throughout the Wayne mansion. She climbed the next set of steps and into Gotham – again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter fellow readers. Review por favor!**

**Disclaimer: Please read it in chapter one.**

**Chapter 3: Kiss Goodnight**

It was raining by the time Margie saw the cement. She had the childish urge to fall to the ground and kiss the pavement. She sauntered down third street, whistling some sad jazz tune her mother use to sing when she had one of her 'down' days. Margie crossed the street, ignoring the cross walk, and entered the cemetery. The grass was wet and soaked through her jeans and sneakers, but she didn't care. It had been days since she had visited her deceased parents.

"_Lumos_," she whispered, and the tip of her wand ignited in a ghostly light. She held it closer to her body than normal in case any grave robbers were picking apart some rich person's grave. Crossing the long lines of headstones, Margie noticed movement along the left wall, and she grasped her wand tighter. _How can you be afraid? You've been in worse situations. Your father is The Joker and your mother, for heaven's sake, is Belletrix Lestrange. You called the Dark Lord your uncle. You have used the Killing Curse multiple times. Why are you afraid of a little movement in a graveyard? You've lived in this place for five years. You're not scared!, _she reprimanded herself, but she still held her wand closer. _Only four rows left until Papa's grave._ She counted down.

"What do you mean she escaped?" a voice shouted frantically from the left wall. Margie dashed to her father's headstone and slid noiselessly behind it.

"_Nox,"_ she whispered, and the light at the end of her wand extinguished.

"Are you telling me that this girl, this _sixteen year old_ girl outsmarted you?" the voice emphasized her age with such force that Margie could imagine the spit flying out of the person's mouth. "This can't happen again, Robin. Don't you understand that!? We have had a clean record for _five years._ Five years! Gotham hasn't seen a villain since The Purge!"

_Shit._ Margie thought, _Batman._ She quietly kissed the headstone and whispered a promise to return the next night to her unknowing father, or whatever there remained of him, and slid quietly from headstone to headstone.

"Yes Robin, I understand that this is a problem. I would expect a little more insight from a _seventeen year old_." Batman paused for Robin's response. "Yes... Yes... Well I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Robin, but need I remind you that we have a high potential villain loose in Gotham. I understand that! Meet me at the Bat Cave in fifteen." Batman snapped the phone shut and sighed. Something was wrong with this whole situation. No one had escaped the Bat Cave before with one exception, The Joker back in '84. That had been years ago. _I'm getting too old for this,_ Batman thought and walked towards the entrance of the cemetery. Suddenly he stopped, movement was coming from behind the headstones six rows back, now five rows, then four, then three.

"Stop where you are!" Batman yelled at the shadow. It kept moving. Two rows back, one row back, and abruptly there was a flash of green light. Batman went into a roll, pulling out a knife. "I said stop!" He shouted again. The shadow advanced again, accompanied with another flash of green light. The green light missed his right arm by millimeters. He rolled again and threw the dagger at the unknown assailant. A muffle thud accompanied the thrown dagger. Another green light shot through the space between the two headstones directly ahead of him. He rolled to his left only to find another green streak of light; it missed him yet again. The assailent was toying with him.

"Come out. Now!" he bellowed; his demand met a response of silence, not even another green flash. Panting, Batman slowly picked himself up. Grass stains covered his costume and the rain had soaked through his shoes. "What the hell..." he muttered aloud.


	4. Chapter 4

**_I hope everyone is enjoying the story. This is more background on Margie and such. Don't get too bored. Hopefully it's not too confusing with the first part and where I switch up Robin and Batman's names with their real names. Please read and review. Enjoy!_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Margie Lewis. Any speculation? Feel free to PM me._**

**Chapter 4: What Voices?**

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Margie whispered furiously as she slid along the first row of headstones. Batman was not part of her plan. "All I wanted to do was lay down and talk to Papa. But no. Batman had to show his ugly ass face and ruin it all. Yes Ma I understand I did the right thing by using the wand. Papa, I grabbed his knife so I'm fine. Ma! Stop yelling at Papa. You know I don't like using my wand! It's not fair!"

Margie was convinced her parents were talking to her from the dead. She was sure they gave her advice while she was fighting; her mother whispered spells and defense tactics while her father attempted to advise her in hand to hand combat. Many times the two fought inside Margie's head, giving her a massive headache. People had found her mumbling in a corner more than once before. That would explain why she was made fun of at Miss Abigail's Home for Orphans, and eventually kicked out because of her 'friends' and her violent outbursts.

Margie ran through the city, taking the backstreets and allies rather than the main street. After turning down the alley next to Gotham General Hospital, Margie skidded to a stop, panting. With her hands on her knees, she closed her eyes and willed her parents' voices to subside into the low rumble she could endure. Eventually, they did. "Thank you," she whispered. Carefully, she lowered herself to the heap of blankets under the overhang on Bob's Potato Company & Sons. It was still raining, and lightning split the sky. Margie snuggled against the brick wall, still warm from the ovens on the other side, and fell into a fitful sleep with her parents were on a rampage inside her head.

Batman revved the engine of the Bat Mobile. He couldn't understand how a girl of sixteen had outsmarted some of the best masterminds in the world. It had taken the better half of a decade to outfit the Batcave, and the manor, with the highest security system, defense mechanisms, and other top secret technology created by a federal agency. The car idled for another five minutes before Batman started driving down Third. Halfway home Robin called.

"Sir, we have a situation." Robin's voice sounded uneasy. Batman sighed. It was a miracle the boy was alive; with such a shady past, it was a relief to have the kid out of trouble.

"What is it Dick?" he said in a tired voice. He had seen enough action for one day.

"Do you remember the thug Wolverine got to the other night? The one with the nasty cuts?" Robin responded.

"Yes, Dick. I remember. Now cut the crap and tell me what's up with him! Did he escape with the girl?" He gritted his teeth. If that was the case the press would be up his ass in the morning.

"No," Dick responded bluntly, "he's dead." Batman sucked in his breath and blew it out through his teeth.

"What's the damage?" he asked, massaging his forehead with his left hand, hoping to relieve some of the pressure that was building in his temples. Robin didn't answer right away. "Dick! What is the damage?" He punctuated each word with an exclamation.

"Bruce, the guy's windpipe is on the other side of his neck." Dick swallowed into the phone. It was clear he was grossed out, and Bruce didn't blame him.

"Shit." Bruce cursed aloud, "It was the girl, wasn't it?" It was a rhetorical question, but he had no desire to hear the already known answer.

"It seems he helped the girl get down from the shackles and she killed him. He was pretty bad off, but still."

"Yeah, kid. I know," he sighed. "I'll be there in five minutes to reassess. Any hits on who the girl is?"

"No idea. I'm thinking a stray wanting attention." Dick stated.

"Aren't they all?" Bruce hung up and put the car into first. Precisely five minutes later, he was pulling into the Wayne Manor, dressed in street clothes.


	5. Chapter 5

_**So I was writing this while watching NCIS and this chapter reflects that I guess... I've always thought of Batman as some hard-ass that would work for the government, like Officer Gibbs. If that offends you... You have my condolences. If not - great. Enjoy and review if you can! **_

_**Disclaimer: Read the first chapter please. Oh, and Natalia is part of my friend's story **__Flight of the Mockingbird__**. If you want more of a back story on her, please refer to hogwartsalways5298's story.**_

**Chapter Five: The Boot and the Body**

"Dick, where is he?" Bruce threw down his briefcase and took the stairs two at a time to Dick's room. The door was closed and a sliver of light came from under the bottom of the door. He knocked. "Dick?"

"Come in," Dick's muffled voice said from behind the door. Bruce turned the knob and found it locked.

"Dick. Let me in. It's locked." There wasn't an answer. "Dick! Let me in and quit being a teenager!" He jiggled the doorknob. There was movement behind the door and hushed voices. One sounded unfamiliar, higher, and feminine.

"Hold on!" Dick shouted from behind the door. After a few seconds the door swung open with a sweating, panting Dick Grayson behind it. "Yeah, Bruce?"

"That your boot?" Bruce gestured at the stray black boot by Dick's bed. Dick stammered. "Looks like you found yourself a playmate. Shit Dick, you call me telling me that one of the convicts has his windpipe smashed and now you're fooling around with some girl? Come on, kid. What are you doing? Are you a teenager or something?" Dick opened his mouth to argue but Bruce cut him off. "Don't answer that. It was a rhetorical question. Show the girl out, and where's the body?"

Dick turned around and cleared his throat. A girl with mousy brown hair stepped out of the closet with rumpled clothes; her eyes were cast down to the floor and she shuffled towards the door. Bruce sighed. _This is what happens when you have a teenager on your hands, _he thought.

"So this is him?" Bruce stated more than asked. Dick nodded, still embarrassed. They were standing in the Batcave's bonus room, used mostly for battle practice and defense training. The convict lay on a stainless steel table. His throat was a bloody mess and the gashes on his body were greening from decay. "You know, I've only seen this once. 1984. The Joker escaped from the Bat Cave on March 13. Coincidence that some girl replicates his crime and escapes?"

"The question is why, though. The girl was no more that sixteen, eighteen at the most. She wouldn't have been alive during that time and The Purge took place a little over five years ago. Why would she want to replicate it now?" Dick questioned.

Bruce shrugged, "That's what we need to find out. Did you find anything about her yet? Oh wait – you couldn't. You were, ah, busy." He walked down the hall before adding, "That doesn't mean stand around, Dick. It means get to work on finding our mystery girl. And what was that girl's name we watched dance the other night? Natalie?"

"Natalia. Natalia Jordyn." Dick responded quickly. Bruce turned around just in time to see the smile slip off of his face.

"Oh. That's right."


	6. Chapter 6

_**As I said in the last chapter, this is a spin off of not only the first chapter of this book, but my friend's fanfiction,** Flight of the Mockingbird.** Just to be clear, Sweet Tooth is a villan from Holy Musical B tman and is one of the central characters in this story. Natalia has just been introduced and so on. Please Read and REVIEW! It would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!**_

**Chapter Six: Time to Find the Past in the Present**

It was barely past dawn when faint light stirred Margie from a fitful night's sleep. Her parent's voices still reverberated against her skull, but the headache from the night before had downgraded to a slight pressure across the bridge of her nose. Slowly she sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She had a hankering for a swig of something strong. Bourbon would most likely do the trick. Her sluggish movements cost her time; the owner of the potato factory would be arriving within the hour. She carefully hid the remnants of her 'bedroom' before exiting the alley with the company of her mother, her father, her wand, and the two other musketeers found in her boots – a sleek knife and a short, sturdy dagger.

Each step took her hunger for a strong drink to a new level. Her mouth was sticky from sleep and leftover nightmares of Wolverine chasing her and slashing through her throat. Each step brought pain in her thighs and hamstrings; she was too distracted to notice, though. Posters were strewn everywhere throughout the city, covering the buildings and littering the streets. It looked as if someone had dropped confetti on Gotham. Margie, out of sheer curiosity, wrenched one free from the mass covering the nearest building. The front advertised a reenactment of the famous Sweet Tooth's downfall which had occurred over the weekend.

"Has it seriously been five years since then?" Margie wondered aloud.

"Five years is a long time, you know," a voice sounded from the shadows of a nearby alley, causing Margie to instinctively draw her wand and unsheathe her dagger. "Well, looks like someone is a little high strung," the voice taunted. "You might think to keep that wand away. Some people might start to get the wrong ideas."

Margie strained her eyes in order to see the shadow of the person speaking. The shadow moved out into the open, and there stood an average looking man. His looked polished, clean cut. His blonde hair was styled in a modern fashion and his pants were obviously part of a suit. Only two things were out of place – his bright blue eyes gave off an uneasy sense of mischief (something Margie could relate to), and under his rolled up shirt sleeves were chocolate colored burns. They wound up his forearms and disappeared under his shirt. Margie attempted to calculate if the man would attack, but it was difficult for her to decide with her mother telling her to kill him with the Killing Curse and her father's rejoicing at the fact that this man was an old friend.

"Are you mute, Starburst?" the unfamiliar man scoffed, "Or are you mute and deaf?"

Margie shook her head, "Ask the question again. And hurry, I can have you dead within two seconds."

"Like I'm scared of your stick, Dove. Think again." He smirked, toying with her, but Margie stood her ground, unwavering. "As I was saying, you look like a girl who needs a home and someone to act as a fatherly figure. Do you take the offer, SweetTart?" It was Margie's turn to scoff.

"I don't appreciate your offer, and I will happily decline." She snorted and spat a wad of spit at the stranger's feet. "Take that as your 'payment' or whatever you want."

The man smiled and shrugged, "If you ever change your mind, here's my card. Just ask for Samuel Travis. My people will know how to reach me… in any situation." The stranger turned and sauntered down the alley he had come from, leaving Margie standing with a piece of paper in her hands.

She looked down and read the card. It was clearly home-made, with cramped handwriting that resembled her own uneducated hand.

_Samuel Travis: Candy Enthusiast_

_Tasting the rainbow one candy at a time_

Margie re-read the card, making sure she had read it correctly. It couldn't be. No, Sweet Tooth had died five years ago in a vat of melted chocolate. What a pleasant way to die. Margie shook her head and focused her attention back on to the green flyer. She studied it for a few seconds before her mood turned sour. Standing in the middle of the picture, dressed in ballet shoes, a leotard, and an ever so familiar smile, was Natalia Jordyn, Margie's arch nemesis.

"You have got to be kidding me," Margie swore under her breath. "Hasn't that bitch been adopted yet?" Margie and Natalia had grown up in the same orphanage. Though Natalia didn't pose a threat to the physically superior Margie during that time, she had a special weapon. Natalia could charm anyone and get her way. This one sided hatred drove Margie to commit heinous acts of violence during the days when she had lived in the orphanage. All she heard during her time was Natalia this, Natalia that, Natalia is such a sweetheart, oh Natalia. It was a miracle Margie was thrown out before she could dispatch her fists on the inferior girl's unsuspecting face.

Margie tightened her grip on the flyer, crumpling it into a two sided fan, like the ones she used to make as a child. She turned down the street and headed towards Miss Abigail's Home for Orphan's to make a surprise appearance for her childhood foe. She had forgotten about her desire for a shot of bourbon.


	7. Chapter 7

_**I apologize for being so long, my faithful readers. I have many excuses, but I'm a little rusty right now... I'm not all that pleased with this chapter... so let me know what you think. Thank you, my faithfuls. Introducing Natalia Jordyn and the famous Margie Lewis.**_

_**Disclaimer: All I own is Margie... I think... but if I am wrong, I only own my computer and my vocabulary. Thank you, my dearies.**_

**Chapter Seven: Through the Looking Glass**

Margie's feet followed the familiar path to the nightmare of her childhood. The orphanage continued to haunt her dreams, along with her parent's constant bickering. She could still find herself walking down the dank corridors to the one woman she hated more than Natalia – Miss Abigail. The sky was finally clearing from the night time rainstorms. As she neared her childhood 'home,' her mood darkened. She stopped suddenly. Two people stopped in front of the orphanage. One was bent over in a crumpled manner, as if older, while the other held itself with a dancer's poise.

"Oh thank you! I'm certainly nervous," the smaller, straighter shadow squeaked. Margie stiffened.

"Oh, Miss Jordyn, Master Bruce and Master Dick are extremely happy to welcome you into their family. Master Bruce told me you are quite the dancer." The older looking shadow said. The voice was gravelly and had uncertain pauses between words. Margie dared to look around the corner, only to see Natalia Jordyn and an older gentleman walking straight towards her. Her heart jackhammered in her chest as she pressed her body to the wall and willed herself to blend in with the worn brick.

"Did they?" Natalia tittered as she did a plié, "Well, I have dabbled in it." She laughed.

The voices grew closer and closer to Margie's hiding space. She squeezed her eyes shut when suddenly she felt her brain begin to expand and her body began to shrink. She opened her eyes to find herself looking through the brick wall. She gasped audibly and threw her hands to her mouth to stifle it.

"Well, Miss Jordyn, let us go to Manor. Shall we?" The older man glanced past Natalia while opening the limo's doors. Margie quickly looked in the same direction to see a shadow down the way. It looked very much like the one belonging to a certain Samuel Travis she had seen earlier, but it disappeared before she was able to get a better look. The limo's engine purred as it pulled out of the alley way and with her new found hiding place, she followed them.

The manor stood tall against the blue skies of Gotham's mid-morning. The limo pulled up into the circular drive and stopped. Natalia stepped out, without knowing her proclaimed hater was a mere three yards away. Margie attempted to control her breathing, which was coming out in harsh bursts. It wasn't fair that little Miss Natalia Jordyn was adopted by the rich Bruce Wayne. It was comical as well as ironic.

"Well this is fantastic!" Natalia said, fawning over the architecture and lawn ornaments. It would be so easy for Margie to reach out, yank Natalia down by her hair and invisibly beat her senseless, just as she dreamed to all those years at Miss Abigail's.

_"Not yet, Margie! You must use your own tactics. Make her suffer!"_ The Joker's voice hissed from the right side of her brain._ "You must wait until the old man is gone. You must wait until the coast is clear, especially now that you're in the realm of the weakling Batman."_ Margie nodded her head fiercely, as if he could see her. She smiled as a plan developed within the back of her mind.

"Yes, Papa. I know just what I will do. Especially now that I know she will be missed." Margie slunk into the backyard, where she began to plan and wait until she could get Natalia alone.


	8. Chapter 8

_**So here y'all go... I apologize that it has taken me so long. I can't write sometimes because well... I'm having some problems with developing the story. Anyways, I would greatly appreciate reviews. I enjoyed writing this chapter, hopefully y'all do too. Oh, and tell me if I need to develope Margie too...**_

_**Disclaimer: ONLY MARGIE! Thanks boo.**_

**Chapter Eight: Who Wants to Play Hide and Seek?**

It had been days since Margie had decided to camp out behind the Wayne Manor. It had been days since she had eaten something decent or had a restful night's sleep. As the morning etched into the horizon, Margie stretched her sore legs. She was still camouflaged and wore the brick exterior to mask her dingy clothes. One thing this new "super-power" couldn't mask was the stink coming off of her body. Margie sniffed her clothes cautiously and grimaced. _Shit. I stink, _she thought, still stretching and attempting to hold her breath as she lifted her arm to stretch her triceps. Suddenly, the door to Margie's left opened with a bang. Natalia's sing-song voice filtered through the opening, making Margie cringe.

"I still can't believe I'm actually getting to train with you!" Natalia giggled. She was dressed in a blue workout top and black pants cropped halfway up the calf.

"Well you sure did give Bruce a run for his money. The temper tantrum really helped with the convincing part. I was going to try to convince him. I mean after I saw you kicking those guys' asses in the alley, I couldn't keep my eyes off of your legs. I- I mean- when, um, you were kicking them." A male voice stumbled over his words. The pair entered Margie's line of vision, who had taken her wand from her shoe. Margie almost fell over with the sight of the boy. His black hair fell in a swoop over his forehead, like the distant memory of Justin Bieber's, and Margie found herself swimming though his blue eyes. She unconsciously tugged at her ragged braid and dirty clothes.

"Oh…" Natalia blushed horribly, and giggled again, "Well, Dick. What's on the schedule for today? Knives? Guns? Driving?" Dick laughed at her feeble attempt to slash through the air with an invisible knife. Margie almost laughed out loud at the attempt, but remembered that she couldn't give her position away, if her smell didn't already. She edged around the side of the house in order to keep the couple in sight.

"No. Sparring." Dick smiled, and Margie knew that he was already wrapped around Natalia's finger. "You've gotten much better these past few days, and I thought you could use a nice day outside and use your surroundings to assist your attacks." Margie couldn't stop staring at the boy talking. She had never felt this way. Usually men or boys were meat. Something to be killed and killed without mercy. At least, that's what her mother had told her after her father and uncle had been killed in the notorious Purge. Her heart was jump roping in her chest as the black haired boy took his position in front of Natalia. Truthfully, Margie didn't expect much of Natalia's fighting skills. She had considered the blonde girl inferior from the time they had met. Plus, Natalia's petite figure didn't show much of a threat against her own bulky muscular frame.

"Are we going to start now?" Natalia questioned Dick with a straight face, shifting slightly from one sneakered foot to another. Dick nodded and readjusted his black basketball shorts and green t-shirt.

Natalia threw the first punch, which was too far left to do any damage to Dick's perfect face. Dick blocked it easily with his right forearm before sending Natalia sprawling with a roundhouse kick. Margie didn't expect Natalia to recover, but there she was, on her feet with a punch to Dick's abdomen, causing him to double over, and sent another to his lower back, and another to his side. By then, the boy was on the ground and Natalia was standing over him, victorious. Margie couldn't help but be impressed. Natalia had improved, but still wouldn't be a match for her own skills. Today, Natalia could have done some damage to her reputation because of her lack of food or sleep, but nevertheless, she could take her.

"Are we finished here? That's twice today I've taken you down in less than five moves." Natalia smirked. Dick grunted and stood, his breath labored.

"Sure, I'll tell Bruce you need a better sparring partner, since I have failed to meet your 'expertise,'" he replied sarcastically. "Need I remind you, I was patrolling last night and had to stop a mugging. Can you cut me some slack?" He limped toward where Margie was standing and she held her breath "Shit, Natalia do you smell that? It smells like some animal died over here." Natalia covered her nose and pretended to puke all over the ground.

"Jesus. Let's get inside before I really puke." She smiled and linked arms with Dick, who looked at her, wide eyed, before proceeding. Margie stuck out her foot just before both walked through the doorway.

It happened in slow motion. Natalia fell first, landing on her side and rolling to her back. Dick fell next and landed on top. There was an awkward pause before they both burst out laughing. Unfortunately, Margie was unable to see this cute exchange. She was already down the driveway, tears rushing down her face - the first tears shed since she was at the orphanage six years ago.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Here's a new chapter, my faithful readers. This one is a little... graphic- it's like TV shows. It goes there... but not all the way. Hope y'all enjoy it. Please review if you can! Thanks boys and girls!**_

_**Disclaimer: ONLY MARGIE I SWEAR! DONT BELIEVE ME? THEN SUE ME! No don't... Please don't I'm broke...**_

**Chapter Nine: Back to Her Old Ways**

"Man up, Margie!" Margie screamed at herself in the abandoned alley. It was mid-morning and Margie found herself curled in a ball, tears running down her face. "What do you think you're doing? You're sitting here sniffling like a little girl who was told she couldn't have a lollipop. Men are exactly like Momma said – meat. They were meant to perish, to be eaten, and slaughtered like cows." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Momma, I don't understand why I have to do this again." She stood up and nodded to the voice in her head.

_"You don't have to. Suppress your feelings and just live with the instinct to kill."_ Her mother's voice whispered sweetly. _"That way you won't find yourself in the blubbering mess you are now. Now get off your bloody ass and toughen up. The Dark Lord would not stand for this! Back in my day, you wouldn't have gained any respect with those tears running down your face."_ Margie cringed at her mother's harsh words.

_"Your mother is right, for the first time." _Her father's voice rasped hideously on the opposite side of Margie's head._ "You wouldn't last a minute back when I was alive. Do you think all of the famous villains were friends? Hell no, I had Sweet Tooth on my ass every day, trying to steal my ideas and claim all of my work was his! Don't get me started on Deathstroke. That man just couldn't shut his mouth. My suggestion is to leave all people behind and plan something big. Something that will blow their heads off." _Her father began to laugh hideously. The type of laugh that would make your ears and nose bleed.

_"Would you shut up?" _her mother screeched,_ "You're giving me a headache. You never measured up to Voldemort! At lease he had a plan while hunting that Potter boy! And thanks to you, I couldn't do anything because I was carrying your worthless child!"_

"Would you two stop screaming at me? I can't help it if I am considered a failure to both of you, but guess what? I'm going to use magic and use knives and kill everyone that stands in my path! Alright? Did you hear me? I will always be your daughter! So SHUT UP!" Margie screamed at the top of her lungs. A group of teenage boys at the end of the street stopped and stared at the ragged girl screaming at the brick wall.

"Hey girl!" one of the boys yelled at Margie, "is it talking back yet? You've been screaming at it for a while now." The group laughed and began to saunter down the sidewalk towards her. "Come on, girl. You wanna have someone to talk to, why don't you come with us and we could have some fun." The leader started to hip thrust ridiculously. Margie smiled and began to lift up her shirt.

"Why don't you get your skinny ass over here and get what you want," she teased and lifted her shirt even more so the boys could see the bottom of her bra. "Unless you're too chicken and can't handle a crazy girl like me. And let me tell you, I can get crazy." She winked suggestively and beckoned the lead boy over. She had dealt with horny men and boys before. She had lived off of the money earned from prostitution a couple of times, but it had never ended… pretty.

The boy tried to keep his "cool" as he began to strip. "Yo, boys – make a line around the corner. We don't know how long this will last." The rest of the group laughed and rounded the corner. The leader was down to his boxers when he grabbed Margie's hand and crushed his mouth to hers. His mouth tasted like an ash tray, along with the familiar taste of pot. Margie played along, as she always did, and put her hand on his chest while maneuvering the other to go under her shirt. She counted to ten and pulled the knife from her back pocket. She kept kissing the boy with such ferocity that the boy was having a hard time keeping up with her feverous movements. Slowly she took the knife's sharp edge and grazed the boy's midriff.

"What are you doing?" the boy panted into her mouth. Margie smiled against his.

"Why don't you look, honey child?" The boy pulled back and his eyes widened in surprise.

"What the hell are…" was all he managed. Margie hoisted the knife upward, slamming the hilt up until it reached his ribcage. Blood spurted form the wound and the boy gasped for breath.

"Feels nice, right? Just what you expected. Nice and smooth." She snickered, pulled out the knife and left the boy in a jumbled heap. "Looks like I've got a new change of clothes along with a couple of good dinners with this wad of cash. Oh, you can keep your drugs. They would have killed you anyway." The boy gurgled and Margie smiled. "I'm just going to let you suffer. Your boys won't suffer as much, I suppose. This was fun, though. Too bad we can't do this again." The boy reached for Margie's sneaker. "I don't think so, my friend." Margie gripped the boys arm and twisted; his arm popped and the only thing that came out of his mouth was a squeak. "There we go." Margie walked out of the alley and rounded the corner.

"Hey guys, who's next?" one other boys yelled. "She's back and it looks like she bent Richie's Richard!" They all laughed, but it would be the last. As Margie rounded the corner and stepped into the sunlight six bright flashes of green light erupted from her wand and hit all six boys square in the chest. All were frozen in time with a smile painted on their cooling flesh.

"Practice makes perfect, I suppose." Margie laughed, "How was that, Mom and Dad? That should shut you both up for a while." There wasn't an answer, which made Margie laugh even more hysterically. She walked down the street with about eighty dollars in cash in her pocket, seven t-shirts, seven pairs of jeans, and a new hat in her backpack.


	10. Chapter 10

_**What is this? Two chapter is one night? It is blasphemy, I tell you! Blasphemy! Don't ever think I don't love y'all. I'm putting my head under the guillotine for y'all because if my parents find out I'm still up... off with my head! Enough of my life story... please let me know if this is a good length for the last two chapters... and tell me what you think... in other words READ AND REVIEW PLEASE! Thanks...**_

_**Disclaimer: Margie. My Maniac Margie. Mine.**_

**Chapter Ten: Identity Crisis**

"What do you mean there are seven bodies in an alley?" Bruce spat into the receiver. The Gotham City Police Department's commissioner had called only seconds earlier to report the news. "It's a rhetorical question, Gordon! Of course I know there are actually seven bodies! That girl from the news has been talking about it on the T.V. for over fifteen minutes!" Bruce snapped his phone shut and opened the fridge, just to slam it shut again.

"What the hell?" Dick and Natalia walked into the kitchen. Bruce rounded on them suddenly, causing them to stumble backward. "What's wrong, Bruce?"

"The fact that seven bodies were found over on Third Street is the goddamn problem! Why the hell aren't you two on patrol?" Bruce said through gritted teeth. "It has been five years since there has been a murder in Gotham, but in the past week there have been eight. Does that raise a red flag? Well? Does it?" Natalia was the first to speak up.

"Well, of course," she responded with a quiet defiance, "but we haven't had to patrol during the day since the Purge. So get over it, Bruce. We have to reassess and proceed from there." Bruce almost hit her, but held back. _She's right. We have to reassess, _hethought.

"She's right," Dick interjected, draping his arm around Natalia, "And it wasn't even our patrol time. Wolverine and Spiderman were supposed to be out in the area, but then again, things have been lax since the Purge." Bruce nodded, deep in thought. Suddenly he jumped.

"I know who it is." Natalia looked at him.

"Know who who is?" she asked curiously.

"The girl. She's the one who escaped and now eight people are dead… Shit, what was her name?" Bruce began pacing. Dick rifled through some files on the table and pulled out a file folder with a big red X printed on the front.

"I meant to tell you I had finally found the girl's name." Dick put down the folder and took out a piece of paper with three lines printed on it. "Margie Lewis. Sixteen. Orphan. I found the name of the orphanage, the same one that Natalia came from actually – Miss Abigail's Home. Did you know her?" he turned to find Natalia staring wide-eyed at him.

"You can't be serious? You're talking about Maniac Margie?" Natalia gasped, "Yeah, I knew her. She ran away from orphanage six years ago. She was weird; always talking under her breath and referring to them as Mom and Dad." She shook her head.

"We have to find her," Bruce said. "Now. Go get your suits on, were going to find her. And Natalia, It's time for Mockingbird to make her appearance." Natalia smiled and all headed off in opposite directions to get changed.

Margie walked into the nearest building and walked in. The sign promoted Cyndi's Dance Studio. The receptionist looked up and smiled at Margie as she sauntered into the lobby.

"Do you by chance have a shower I can use? My parents locked me out of the house, so I haven't had a shower in a while." Margie asked sweetly and batted her eyes at the receptionist. Sympathy etched itself into the receptionist's brow.

"Of course, sweetie. Here's some shampoo and conditioner. There are some towels in the locker room that is down the hall to your left." The receptionist handed her the bath supplies and pointed down the hall at the sign that said _Women's Locker room_.

"Thank you!" Margie trilled and the receptionist nodded her welcome.

Once in the shower, Margie sighed. The water felt wonderful against her skin. She turned the water to searing hot. It wasn't hot enough until her skin was Santa Claus's suit red. She washed her hair three times, using the whole bottle of traveler's shampoo and conditioner before she stepped out of the shower. After twenty long minutes of soaking in the blistering heat, Margie walked into the lobby in her new change of clothes, taken from one of the boys in the alley.

"Thank you so much, Miss." Margie smiled while walking out the door, "I think my mother will greatly appreciate your generosity." The receptionist smiled and waved as Margie walked out the door.

The sun was hot on Margie's bare shoulders when she walked outside. It was nearing dusk and the rush hour traffic was just beginning. Car horns honked at other cars honking at other cars, and pedestrians walked swiftly from one building to the nearest restaurant. Margie sat down at the closest bench and began to think.

_The only way to get Natalia alone is to kidnap her. From the way that she is progressing in her fighting skills, it looks like she could be a potential threat in close combat, but then again I have my wand. I don't really want to use it though; it would almost be cheating. Why am I even holding this grudge over her? Oh yeah, I remember. She's the one who ratted me out for sneaking the extra food. She's the one who came up with Maniac Margie. She's the one who told all the other girls I was crazy because I was 'talking to myself' all the time. She's the reason why I ran away from the orphanage. No one wants to stay when they don't have any friends, or when someone tells the boy she likes that she has a crush on him and the time that the boy and girl were friends suddenly disappears and the whole orphanage, even the babies, chant _No one like Maniac Margie! Manic Margie must be murdered! No one likes Maniac Margie!_ This is why she has to die. My life has been ruined from the start. It's time to end it._ Margie thought with her head cradled in her hands, her knuckles white from the grip she had on the side of her head.

Margie failed to notice the sleek black car cruising down the street with Natalia's face plastered to the window looking out, oblivious that her own Maniac Margie was sitting on the bench. All Natalia saw was a brunette girl with dyed purple ends in a baggy, cutoff t-shirt and cutoff jeans staring down at the concrete by the park. Natalia was blissfully oblivious.


	11. Chapter 11

_**I must really love y'all. Here's another chapter. I'm too tired to write any more. Many of you would consider me a wimp for saying that a 11:55 PM, but what can I say... well... nothing actually. please tell me what you think. thanks.**_

_**Disclaimer: I'm seriously tired of putting this... Margie is mine. thanks.**_

**Chapter Eleven: Not too Distant Memory**

"There's one entrance wound to the torso, just under the ribs, and the poor boy has a dislocated shoulder, as well as broken. It seems as if his assailant wanted him to die slowly, and painfully." Jim Gossen was one of the finest Chief Medical Examiner in Gotham and was well known throughout the country as being one of the best. "The definite reason for death was not the wound, but rather the amount of blood lost. Time of death was around eleven or twelve, and the police didn't find him until after four. It seems that our friend here was sitting in his own blood for a while. One would consider that extremely uncomfortable, even more when you're buck naked." Gossen spoke into the microphone, careful to punctuate each word so he could understand himself clearly when he replayed the tapes.

"The other six, though, are quite a mystery. There seems to be no entrance or exit wounds, no fingerprints on the skin, or any type of damage to the epidermis. We will have to see if there were any traces of poisoning or drugs. I believe that will be the case. From the markings on the inner crease of the forearm of each victim, it seems that each was regular heroin users and by the looks of their teeth, they probably used marijuana. Oh and it seems that cocaine was another big hit for these boys."

The trio of superheroes watched the chief medical examiner work on the seven victims lying on the stainless steel tables. Each was stripped of all clothing except for a piece of cloth draped over their genitals, out of pure respect to their privacy. Bruce couldn't understand how a sixteen year old girl could kill seven innocent people in cold blood; rather, he couldn't believe anyone could. The Purge had taken a lot out of him after the hospital blew; he just couldn't understand why someone would do that all the time. The thing that really bothered him was the fact that only one was stabbed while the others seemed to have dropped dead instantaneously. From what Gossen had said, it looked like overdoses for the six unmarred boys, but that seemed unlikely. The fact that six teenage boys could drop dead from an overdose was unreal. It was almost like… magic. Bruce dismissed this from his mind. Magic only existed in fairytales. The closest thing to magic were mutants like Wolverine, Spiderman, Mystic, and all the others.

Dick nudged Bruce's side, "Do you really think that they died of overdose?" he whispered.

"I don't know what to think right now, Dick. The only thing we've got is what the M.E. says and it looks like he's thinking overdose on the six and blood loss on the one over there." Bruce growled.

"I know what he's saying, but do you really think he's got it right…" Dick trailed off under Bruce's stare.

"Let's just see where this goes and we can go from there, okay?" he growled again. Dick nodded and stepped away to sit by Natalia, who was sitting by the window of the examiner's room gazing blankly into space.

"What's wrong, Natalia?" Dick questioned, worried.

"I can't place where I've seen this before," she responded thoughtfully, pulling on a loose string on her costume, "I don't remember when, but there was something that went on in the orphanage that happened like this. Something like animals dying suddenly and flashes of green light missing some of the girls by inches." She shrugged. "We thought it was just a green flashlight at first, but then something happened, but the harder I try to remember, the more elusive it gets." Dick put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her awkwardly.

"Don't sweat it, sweet cheeks. We'll figure it out eventually." She smiled and leaned into him. His heartbeat was soothing and slowly she fell asleep.

_"Manic Margie, sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G-G. First comes death. Then comes the funeral. Then comes Margie being eaten by worms and beetles!" the children taunted and sang throughout the corridors of the orphanage. Margie pretended not to hear and continued to keep a straight face. One she had mastered from an early age when her mother would beat her for not preforming the Killing Curse properly on a stray spider._

_"Hey Margie, which voices are talking to you today? Are they actually responding or are you just imagining them again?" Patrick, her former crush, remarked snidely. Margie gritted her teeth and stood her ground._

_"Move, you worthless piece of shit," she spat at the overgrown ten year old, "Get the hell out of the way before I do some real damage to your fucking pizza face." She tightened her grip on the knife she held in her left hand and her wand in her right. Both were behind her back._

_"Whatcha gunna do, Maniac Messy Mud Pie Margie? Ask your mommy and daddy to hurt me for you?" he leered. Margie inched her way closer to the boy so that the tips of her sneakers were touching his._

_"Oh, they can't hurt you, but I sure can." She threw up the knife and buried it into the side of the boy's neck "I hope it tickles, you sick bastard, because this won't. _Crucio!" _She whispered into the blonde boy's ear. Patrick fell to the floor gagging, flinching, and having what looked like a seizure. Margie sneered at the twitching mound of flesh on the floor and turned around to see the other orphans' shocked, pale faces. "I hope you fuckers enjoyed the show. Any one of you could be next." She stared right into the eyes of ten year old Natalia Jordyn as she said this. She took out her wand once more and mumbled, "_Obliviate,"_ and watched her peers' faces go slack with forgetfulness._

Margie smiled at the memory as she stretched her arms in front of her. She had fallen asleep on the park bench where she had been sitting after her shower. It was well past dinner time, but there was always a convenience store serving whatever Margie wanted to eat. She could always stop at McDonalds on her way back to her alley. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Margie decided it was the day she would eat a good hearty meal. With the wad of money banging against her thigh, she walked in to the fanciest restaurant in Gotham, dressed in a cutoff shirt and cutoff jeans. They would definitely try to throw her out, but that was what the _Imperius _spell was for. _Hello, four course dinner_, Margie thought as she pushed open the heavy French doors to Winston's Fine Dining.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Hey y'all. So I'm at a swim meet and I'm waiting to go back to swim my race for a second time. Anyways, I believe that I can say that this is well... leading up to the climax, finally. I'm sorry if I'm bothering you with all of the little chapters, but tell me what you think PLEASE. I'm begging you - seriously. Tell me what you think I should add, PLEASE. Thanks bro.**_

_**Disclaimer: Margie is MINE. I got you.**_

**Chapter Twelve: Some are Silver, the Others Gold**

"Hello, Miss. Welcome to Winston's," the waiter chirped as Margie walked into the class doors of Winston's Fine Dining. "How many are with you tonight?" The waiter looked down his hawk-like nose at her attire. She could practically hear him thinking _hopefully none._

"Just me, sir." She smiled, showing all of her teeth, even the gold molar all the way in the back. The waiter forced a smile and ushered her away from the door and the rich couples toward the front. The two walked to the back corner of the restaurant. Her table was conveniently tucked into the shadows for the obvious "lesser" customers.

"How is this, Miss?" The waiter set down the lone menu and gestured for Margie to slide into the bare wooden chair. Margie stood with her hands on her hips and her legs spread in a defensive stance. "What seems to be the problem, Miss?"The waiter ventured to ask.

"Well," she paused to look at the waiter's name tag, "Patrick, the problem seems to be that this is the table for the 'poor' people." She spat at his feet. "I think I would like to be seated over there." The table she pointed to was the one at the front of the restaurant complete with velvet seats, silk table cloth, and candlesticks. The waiter stuck his nose in the air and guided her to the 'couples' table.

"Will this be all?" Waiter Patrick sniffed. Margie contemplated this while studying Patrick's complexion; his rounded features and blonde hair sparked yet another memory.

Margie smiled, "Why don't you take a seat with me, Mister. I get awful lonely when I have to eat alone. I tended to do that a lot when I was back in the orphanage." Patrick looked confused, but obliged. "You don't remember me, do you, Patrick." Margie fingered the glass of water that had been left on the table. "Do you remember that? Do you remember how you never sat with me? Well, you did once, but then everyone turned on you. Do you remember the pain, Patrick?" Margie stared at the boy sitting across from her. Her anger mounted as his expression remained superior, nose turned up in the air with his legs crossed.

"Ma'am, I have to wait on other tables. If you don't mind…" Margie interrupted with a snort.

"No sir, you won't be going anywhere."

"Excuse me?" He turned to look at her, really looked at her. Margie noticed the sweat beginning to trickle form his hairline and fall to his starched collar.

"You don't remember my name. It's Margie, Margie Lewis, actually. We were… friends, you could say." His lips began to tremble and his eyes frantically searched for something else to look at, but they rested back on Margie's eyes.

"What do you mean?" Patrick trembled from head to toe, sweat dripping from his hairline and chin.

"You're remembering, aren't you?" she smiled as he nodded. "Then show me you remember the pain." Patrick began to shake uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back in his head so that only the whites showed. Finally, he fell to the floor, kicking. Margie smiled even wider and closed the curtains surrounding the table.

"To give us a little privacy. Now Patrick, what do you think of the pain?" Margie asked his twitching body. "You think that hurts? You should have seen your face when you were actually experiencing this. You probably thought you were dying, more than you do now. I should have extinguished your life six years ago, but you know, I spared you. I regret that, but I could do it right now. But then again." She tapped her wand to her chin as if she was thinking. "Memory is a bitch, isn't it Patrick? You never thought you would have to relive this."

Patrick's body had stopped shaking by then, and although the remnants of pain had not subsided yet, he was fully functioning. He shook his head slowly as a response to the question.

"Please sit up, Patrick. You might cause a scene. Now listen to me carefully, I don't want you to talk about this with anyone, or the real thing will happen again. Understand?" Patrick nodded again. "Good. Now loosen that ridiculous bow tie and unbutton the first three buttons of that shirt. That's it, sweetheart."

Margie opened the curtains and peered out. No one seemed to be paying attention. Margie sauntered out of the table's area and turned around to look at Patrick's appearance – the vacant look in his eye and rumpled appearance. "I hope you had a good time, Patty boy." She winked before she had a chance to see him blush and follow her.

Margie ran through the streets blindly, she knew what she had to do and couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it earlier.

"Margie!" a voice called, stopping her in her tracks, "Margie, wait! C'mon!" Margie turned to see the rumpled mess of Patrick O'Henry. She started running again, zigzagging through the backstreets and alleyways to lose the love of her long lost childhood.

_I should have killed him, _she cursed herself for not taking her mother's advice. After eight long minutes of twists and turns, she found herself in her alley. _Where is it? Where is it? I know I have it here. It was only a few weeks ago when he gave it to me. I swear if I lost it, I might have to kill the poor bastard from the restaurant._ Her fingers frantically shifted through her discarded clothes, blankets, and fast food wrappers. Finally, her fingers brushed up against the fancy cardstock that held the important seven digits that would help her fulfill what she was put on this earth by her two hateful parents sixteen years ago.

Margie stood and ran to the closest pay phone.

"Margie!" She froze. "Margie, please hold up!" Patrick panted as he walked up to the phone booth's semi-closed doors. "Can you just give me a minute? I want to talk to you for a second." He stood in front of her holding his side. "I just wanted to…" The gun shot rang through the street. Patrick blanched as he watched Margie's body absorb the shot. Her face scrunched in pain as the skin stitched itself together; only one drop of blood fell to the floor of the phone booth.

"Shit, boy. I knew I should have killed you," she chuckled. "Looks like I'll just have to erase the past yet again." The knife came out of nowhere. With one swift motion Patrick's head rolled out of the booth. Margie dialed the number printed on the business card.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end answered.

"Yes, may I please talk with Samuel Travis?" Margie asked sweetly.

"Hello, my dear peppermint," the smooth voice of Samuel Travis purred, "what can I do for you?"

"Cut the crap, Sweet tooth. We need to talk. I've got a plan." Margie hung up the phone. Sweet Tooth knew where she'd be.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hiya! You probably don't know me, but I'm undercoverpoet's friend hogwartsalways5298. I've been pestering her to post for almost two weeks, and she FINALLY finished a chapter. I'm posting for her (clearly. She's out of town) an I'm also going to edit this chapter. So if the syntax of anything seems different... Yeah that's me. **

**Here's her AN:**

_I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I'll make all of these excuses for not writing but I won't bore you with them. Please tell me how it's going with the story. Thank you faithful readers!_

Disclaimer: Margie and India my dears are mine. Whaddup.

**And in case you're wondering... Natalia is mine. Just so you know, if it wasn't clear already. **

Chapter 13: Friends, Foes, and Possible Allies

She had picked the sleaziest place to meet him, Sally's Pub and Grill on the south side of the city. The abandoned buidings that cornered the greasy restaurant were marred with graffiti and their crumbling structure added to the pending gloom that fell around the area. With her head down, Margie  
manuvered her way through the throng of greasy haired whores that would go after anything relatively moving - man or woman.

"Hey, sugar," a horse-like woman purred into Margie's ear. Margie tensed and gritted her teeth. "You look a little tense and I know just the way to make you melt. And if you buy me a drink and a snort or two I'll even lower my rates, which ain't even that bad." The whore snapped her gum and twirled her fingers through her hair, all while batting her fake eye lashes.

Margie kept walking, but the whore grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her back. "Listen here, bitch. You'll buy me a fucking drink and some goddamn dope or something before you go, you hear me?." Margie didn't attempt to stuggle against the acrylic nails that were embedded in her scalp.

"Let me go," she whispered to her 'captor.'

The whore laughed. "I dont think so, sugar. I want your payment. I've treated you all nice like, now you gotta return the favor."

"I will once you let me go." Margie said calmly. The whore sneered and yanked a handful of Margie's hair, ripping a clump of the brown and purple strands from Margie's head before she finally let go.

Margie turned slowly to face the makeup caked girl.  
"Now listen here, girl" she spoke in a low monotone so that the girl had to bend close to hear, "I will only say this once, do you understand what I am capable of doing to you? I doubt you do. Now... _INCENDIO_!" The whore looked confused as Margie walked away, her wand conveniently under the sleeve of her demin jacket.  
"Three. Two. One." Margie smirked as she heard the familiar shriek of panic. Slowly the smell of burning flesh permeated throughout the street. Margie inhaled its sweet scent before walking into the building where she was to meet her soon to be accomplice.

Smoke blurred the neon lights that covered the interior of the pub. Drug dealers walked the aisles, drugs and money flowing easily from one hand to another. Margie found a seat in the back, careful to keep the wad of cash and coins silent in her pocket. Only a few seconds passed before she heard footsteps to her right. Slowly, she raised her head to see what piece of shit was walking her way.

"Hey, sugar," a familiar voice said from in front of her, and she smiled - a rare thing when no one was being injured. Margie lifted her head all the way to see the tanned face of India Browning. Her eyes were framed with intricate knotted tattoos that wound their way from her eyes and came to rest on her shoulders. They always reminded Margie of the ivy that once cloaked the front of her mother's house, shading the windows from the blazing Gotham sun. "I haven't seen you in this part of town in a couple of weeks. What brings you down to this dump?"

Margie chuckled and picked up the glass of Three Roses India had set on the table before her. "Simply business, my friend." India tilted her head to look at her childhood friend. They had met when they were about eleven on the backstreets of Gotham. Both girls had been part of the most violent gang after Margie had escaped from the orphanage. Being part of the gang meant making cash in any ways necessary, almost always by illegal means. Margie and India had worked the red light region of the city. By the time the two were twelve, they were joined at the hip and making a good income for the Gotham Ghosts. In addition to their jobs as child prostitutes, they shared the same special intrest of violent torture using both magic and knives. India shook her head at her friend.

"What are we talking about here? Some trivial shit like we used to pull or something a little more devious?" India placed her hand on the table, scarred from lines of coke, and stared intently at Margie's face.

"I'm meeting with Samuel Travis. Or the person you may know more of- Sweet Tooth."

"Oh, how happy I am that some people remember my famous alias." Margie and India spun around to find a tall blonde man wearing a black pinstriped suit with a red and white walking stick. "Don't be startled, Doves. It's only me. Now Margie, who is this lovely Tootsie Pop?" Sweet Tooth sat down between the two girls and smiled under the smoke.

"This is India. She may or may not be joining us in the future, or whatever you want to call it." Margie stirred her drink idly while looking at Sweet Tooth. "So why dont we get started?"

"Patience, my little Snicker bar." Sweet tooth swiveled in his chair to face India. "Now, tell me how you know my little Nerd?" India was tense and Margie could see that she had a death grip on her wand. Margie understood her reaction to the man sitting in front of them; the reason for India being onthe street was the sexual abuse she faced at home. Margie shot her a glance and India nodded and remained silent. "well then." Sweet Tooth scoffed and turned back to Margie.

"She doesn't talk much does she, Dove?" Margie shook her head.

"Lets just get started, okay? Im getting tired and its late." Margie said, her voice short, clipped. Sweet Tooth raised an eyebrow.

"I thought this was your part of town." Margie and India snapped their heads up in his direction pulled out their wands.  
"Stupefy!"  
"Petrificus Totalus!"  
The red and purple streaks of light merged into one and hit Sweet Tooth in the chest.  
The two girls stared at the paralyzed body sitting in the chair.  
"You take his arms. I've got the legs. Just like the old days, my friend." Margie and India laughed as they dragged Sweet Tooth out of the pub. The surrounding people were too high to notice the two girls removing the body.

**So there's your chapter! I tried to avoid changing much, but there are bits that just sound like me... I'm going to try to talk her into letting me edit the other chapters. Maybe post a new chapter sometime soon. Please review, and feel free to PM her about the story, me about my story, and either one of us, really, if there's a grammar issue. Byeeeeee!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I got her to write a chapter! YAAAAAAAAAAY! Remember, kids, pestering really does work. **

_Here's another chapter, my faithful readers. I want to send a shout out to my great friend who is helping me post while I'm at my swim meet. _**(Dat's me!)**_ I couldn't have posted without her laptop and wifi :)_ **(Well... My phone)**_ I hope y'all enjoy this one. And please review if you can. I'm open to ideas if y'all have anything._

Disclaimer: Guess what my friends? I love Margie and India. **And I love Natalia. She is my brain child. **

**Chapter Fourteen: Relive and Prevent**

"Breaking news," the familiar CNN music blared through the TV, "two bodies were found last night and early this morning in two different parts of town. One, a familiar face at the upscale restaurant, Winston's Fine Dining on the west side of the city was found apparently stabbed to death. The other victim, a Leslie "Bunny" McDaniel was found in the south side earlier this morning by the Gotham City Police Department. She was pronounced dead at the scene and the cause of death was ultimately fire." The reporter looked up briefly from her notes, confused, "I thought I had read this wrong, but it seems that, according to a witness, McDaniel spontaneously burst into flames after he saw a blue light coming from some sort of flashlight or other device. We all know about the past six deaths in the city, all of which were tragedies. The next question is, how are we to stop these deaths? Murder has not been seen since the Purge back in 2008. Where are our superheroes, and why aren't they responding to these attacks?"

Bruce Wayne slammed the remote down with such force that the back opened and the batteries fell out. He angrily put them back in and hit the power button repeatedly until the screen finally went black. It had been three months since that girl had escaped from the Batcave, and within those three months she had killed nine people. Not only that, but she had proven to be quite elusive and cunning, which was quite detremental to not only his reputation, but his ego. He couldnt help but be reminded of the Joker and a certain woman he could never catch. She had been in Gotham only a short time but in her wake she left a good twenty unsolved murders, much like the prostitute's death. He racked his memory for the woman's name. It was something exotic and unknown to this part of the world. Bruce massaged his temples in frustration and stood. He couldn't remember for the life of him.

"Bruce!" Natalia's voice filtered through the thin walls of the modern mansion. He was happy to have the girl with him. He wasnt one to show love but he couldnt help but feel it for the blonde teenage girl. She was practically like a daughter to him, more than a friend. Over the past two months of her living with him and Dick she had progressed monumentally as a fighter, and was a relief from all the testosterone in the household. "Bruce," she called again, this time closer.

"In here." He sat back down at the table and pretended to be reading the newspaper. Natailia entered in her Mockingbird costume and stood in front of him silently, her hands on her hips and foot tapping. Bruce looked up. "What?"

"You said that you were going to do my training today. Something about wanting to do a skills check and driving lessons." She chirped.

"You must be mistaken. Dick was suppose to do your training today and the skills test will be next week." He waved his hand as if to dismiss her and went back to reading the paper. Natalia cleared her throat to show that she wasn't leaving. Bruce sighed and gave her an exasperated look.

"You don't understand, Bruce. I can get Dick down within five minutes. I know I'm ready to go on patrol!" she said, her voice slightly whiny, and stuck out her lower lip. "Please!"

Truthfully, he wanted to keep her indoors at all time. It took a temper tantrum on her part to get him to actually let her train. One could say that he didn't want to see his 'little girl' get hurt. With the murder count rising and no lead on the girl, it was a major possibility that she could get hurt or kiddnapped, or worse - killed. Bruce sighed.

"Natalia. I want you to help me figure out some Intel stuff tonight. Dick and maybe Wolverine or even Superman can be your and my replacement." Natalia huffed and knitted her eyebrows together. She crossed and uncrossed her arms repeatedly, but Bruce held his ground. "Don't get pissy with me, okay? You're the only person so far who has ever talked to or seen this girl that's on the streets, do you see where you're needed?"

Natalia blew air out of her nose. "And thats the exact reason why I would like to be patrolling the area!" she huffed. "Why do I have to sit here? I'm sorry, but need I remind you that I am fully capable of taking care of myself and all I see you doing is sitting here on your sorry ass as the murder count rises!"

Bruce slammed his fist on the table, "Listen here, young lady, I am well aware of your capability, but that arrogance is the thing that will get you killed! Do you understand that? The last time someone was that arrogant, he was kidnapped and tortured. If I hadn't saved Dick," Bruce paused and swallowed back the memory, "he would have been dead."

Natalia was silent. Bruce knew that the news had hit her hard.

"I didn't know," she said in a small voice. She walked over and sat heavily in the chair opposite of Bruce. "What happened?"

He sighed. He hated relieving the painful memories from before the Purge. There had been some close calls, but that time had been the worst.

"Back before the Purge, there were villians all around Gotham. I must say it kept us occupied, but back then Dick was only thirteen and still inexperienced. You know of the Joker, obviously. Everyone knows him and he's gone down in history as one of the most vicious villians to have step foot into Gotham. What people don't know is that he had a prodigy. Or at least, that's what I would consider the man as. His alias was Sweet Tooth. He was becoming the next great villain, after the Joker, of course. But his attacks on the city were growing more and more complex and violent.

We had him cornered one day. It was just off of Robert Street, or maybe John Street, but that's beside the point. Dick and I were definitely outnumbered. There were maybe eleven, including Sweet Tooth, and we were surrounded. I took the biggest guys and Dick took on Sweet Tooth. He was much stronger than he looked. You would have been surprised. At one point Dick was going strong, meeting the bastard blow by blow. I turned around for a second to admire his skill, and that's when I was hit from behind. Dick saw me and stumbled after a round-the-house kick. I can still hear Sweet Tooth laughing as he struck Dick with his cane. There must have been a kind of poison or something because he just went limp. The other guys had me pinned down and tied a bag around my head so I couldn't see which way they went.

I scoured that goddamn city for him. Even called reinforcements so that I could continue to look for him. It took me two weeks to find him. Two weeks of constant taunts from Sweet Tooth; I got videos of him torturing the kid. Beating the shit out of him with his cane and injecting him with these crazy medications. I could barely forgive myself for what happened. I can't let that happen to you too, Natalia."

Bruce's eyes felt heavy and he rested his head in his hands. Natalia placed her hand on his back, "I'm sorry, Bruce. I won't ask again. I'll stay and help with Margie's profile." She gently kissed his forehead and went to leave the room.

"Your skills test will be tomorrow. Go change and meet me back down here in twenty minutes. I want to get this done soon." Bruce smiled wearily at Natalia, who returned it before she left the room.


	15. Chapter 15

**So it's looking like I'm 'official poster' from now on. At least that means I get to read the chapters before everyone else. And note the fact that I am actually NOT shamelessly promoting my own story. I could, but I won't. **

_Faithful followers! BEWARE THE CHAPTER BELOW HAS GRAPHIC TOPICS IN IT. Reader discretion is advised. Tell me what y'all think. Enjoy. _**Let me define 'graphic' for you ever-so-innocent readers. It's sex and then torture. I myself hate reading about people having sex, so for readers like me I will put a warning prior to that part, and then a note saying its okay to read after if you'd like to skip it. **

_Disclaimer: yooooehooo- margie and india are mine. _**Natalia is still mine. **

**Chapter 15: The Sweet Taste of Your Own Medicine**

Sweet Tooth found himself bound to a cot in the sitting position. A shadow moved out from the shadows, and he saw that he was looking at a girl. Her brown and purple hair was braided down her back. Her dark eyes flashed menacingly and were framed by new tattoos. She was dressed in loose army green cargo pants, a white tank top, and beatup all star sneakers. She walked over, hips swinging, and tapped the bed.

"Look at you, Dove," the girl sneered, "oh, you like my new tattoos? I know my face is swollen but they will look fantastic. Modeled them after my good friend. You remember her, sweetheart?"

She touched her slightly swollen face. Sweet Tooth attempted to speak through the gag, but the girl put a finger to his lips. She pouted her own lips and moved closer to him.

**So yeah... This is about where it starts. Look for bold, that's where it's safe to read again. **

"You don't remember me, do you? You don't even remember my name? What a shame." She ran her her fingers under his shirt. He shivered at her touch. "Well I don't want to give away the mysterty, do I? And now that you're here, we should have a little fun." The mystery girl crawled onto his lap and began to untie the gag. She quickly undid the knots with nimble fingers. After the cloth was removed, she traced his lips with her fingers, as if intrigued by their shape. With a first lover's tendency, she placed her mouth on his, sliding her tongue over his lower lip. He surprised himself by responding to her kiss. He tried to grab at her, but his restraints prevented him from doing so. The girl continued to kiss him as she climbed onto his lap. She ran her hands through his short blonde hair and began to unbutton his shirt, letting her fingers gently graze his bare chest. She began to rock gently back and forth over his covered groin; she smiled against his lips when she felt his sex harden underneath her. Sweet Tooth stuggled against his bonds so that he could touch her. The girl reached for his pants button and Sweet Tooth kissed her harder to show her that he agreed with her decision. Suddenly the girl stopped and got off the bed.

**Oh. Hey. Good. Not as bad as I thought. You're free to read now. That wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. **

"Well, that was fun. I see you truly enjoyed yourself." She smirked at his bulging pants. "Now it's time for me to enjoy myself."

The girl pulled out a switchblade. She placed her hand over his mouth and trailed the knife across his face, careful not to cut him. After she traced his eyes, nose, mouth, and hairline, she turned. Swinging her hips, she walked over to the table Sweet Tooth hadnt seen until now and brought a roll of duct tape and towel back to the bed. She casually tore off a piece and kissed him passionately before stuffing the towel in his mouth and harshly taping his mouth shut. He struggled against his restraints for the third time to no avail.

The girl threw her head back and laughed. "I didn't know you were a fighter, my little Hershey Kiss. If you struggle, it only makes it more fun for me." Sweet Tooth stared at her, attempting to wiggle out of the bonds. The girl got right in his face and he could see that her eyes were mystifying, almost black but if he looked closely there were specks of bright blue. "You know, Dove, my father has told me a lot about you. So many things. I've read the papers, too. Not many mention you, but oh my. You were getting quite a reputation. Some say that if you hadn't 'died' in that vat of chocolate, you could have rivaled the Joker. Do you think you could have rivaled the greatest villain of all time?" Her voice was getting louder with each sentence; her eyes flashed and her face twisted into a mask of rage and pleasure. Sweet Tooth realized too late to see the knife slash across his left cheek. The next landed on his right wrist, just above the major artery. He could feel the warm liquid exiting his body; at first he couldn't feel the pain but it escalated as the girl stood in front of him.

"I'm going to die. Oh god, what did I do to deserve this? Oh god." He pleaded with the god he didn't believe in to make it all stop, and his prayers were answered.

There was a knock on the door, "Margie. Let's go." A voice filtered through the closed door and the girl turned around.

"Looks like the mystery is solved," the girl smiled lazily, "do you remember now?" She violently ripped off the duct tape, making Sweet Tooth cry out in surprise and pain. This Margie girl smiled hideously, and with a flick of her wrist the switchblade traveled the length of his nose, leaving a deep gash behind. He wimpered as the blood poured from the wound and down his cheeks.

"Margie!" The door flew open and in stepped a dark girl with black hair streaming down her back. Similar knotted tattoos framed her eyes, but they were less violent than the ones Margie had.

"Ivy." Sweet Tooth muttered quietly.

The girl swung her elegant head over to the violent Margie, "What the fuck? You didn't even tell me you were coming in here! I can't believe that you didn't tell me, I would have liked to at least join in."

"Next time. We have a lot of work to do, India. Especially if our guest here fails to cooperate. Even if he does decide to cooperate, I'm sure he wouldn't mind be surrounded by either of us." Margie glanced down, again, at his bulging pants, now splattered with blood. The two girls laughed.

"Just tell me what you're going to do. I will help," Sweet Tooth offered. If he couldn't fight his way out, he could talk his way out.

The pair stared at him and started laughing again. "Do you really think that I'm that stupid, you idiotic piece of shit? Honey bun, you might have been some kind of mastermind way back when, but it's time to retire and let a new wave of villians take your place."

With that, the dark girl, India, turned on her heel and walked to the door. Margie followed, but at the last second she spun around and threw a punch that landed on the brigde of his nose.

"Get ready for more of that, SweetTart." She spat in his face, replaced the towel and duct tape, even more violently than before, and left. All that Sweet Tooth could do is watch her leave and feel the spit roll down his broken nose.

**Hopefully she'll be updating more now that a.) I'm posting for her, b.) I'm finished writing my story and can therefore help her more, and c.) I am improving at threatening her. The threats are still mostly Starkid and occasionally legitimate Batman quotes... But she needn't know that. **


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